Foster: Prison system has ruined many lives

The warm tears slowly made their way down my cheeks and despite my best efforts to blink and contain them, they were now racing toward my chin. My new friend took his whisker brush and quietly tried to wipe my left cheek without either of us acknowledging the obvious. As an African-American man I had learned decades ago to not cry because it was for the weak, and being vulnerable would not get you too far in this life.

I met my new friend quite by chance on a vacation trip to one of Florida’s many palm-filled cities. I was simply trying to get a much needed bald fade haircut and happened to see his ad. This was nearly a year ago and he would sometimes send a text to ask when I wanted to make another appointment or to send holiday greetings and once to say he was on vacation back in his native Beantown (Boston). It kind of annoyed me since I told him I lived in the Midwest so I would not be a regular and maybe never again. But on a very recent visit I felt kind of guilty after a year of texting, so I went back.

I didn’t see it coming, but he told me after he cut my hair that he was going to go to a lake with his dog and go boating and fishing. Cool, I thought, and I wished him well. Eric is white and seemed like a fairly typical millennial with a fair amount of tats and a predictable urban swagger.

“Man, I was locked up for eight years and I came down here to start a new life.”

To me that statement came out of nowhere. I learned he was imprisoned at age 18 for a crime and learned to cut hair while incarcerated. He shared about his estranged father and abusive mother and finally showed me the book from the prison program that helped him. It described his suicide attempt and his life of foster care and juvenile centers. He told me when he came to Florida he lived under an overpass for three months, homeless, and finally got a job in a barber shop. “I never had a childhood. That is why I buy my adult toys now so I can have a little life.” He told me about his African-American cell mate who was caught by his white girlfriend’s mother getting oral sex. She called the cops and he was charged with rape and served 10 years, and just got out. My barber went to pick him up upon his release. He had no money for a lawyer and served time for a consensual act because the woman’s mom could not accept her daughter with a black man.

I finally mustered the words: I understand you now and thanks for telling me your story. “I am so proud of you and keep pushing forward.” I didn’t mind the texts anymore … I wanted to hug him and break down but I couldn’t ’cause I didn’t know him. But he was another man who has had so much of his life immeasurably altered by our penal system. Our nation has more people in prison than any other country and the second-highest rate of incarceration in the world. By some accounts, almost 70 percent of those inside are there for nonviolent offenses. The problem is that many have done unspeakable offenses and should be there, but others have not or received a sentence not commensurate with the crime.

The barber shop had brought me into reality again, and while I hated the tears, I knew they were from my soul for a generation that we have lost and seemingly don’t know how to rescue. So many families have been destroyed by a loved one being in prison and so many children have not had a parent to mentor and love them, just like Eric.

I will definitely go get a cut again and if I cry, so what. His life and millions of others are worth it.

Lyle Foster is part of the Commercial Street Merchants Association and active in several local organizations.